Sand in a Sieve
by Jimli
Summary: Unknowingly, his mate had challenged their son, a dominance play that even a three-year-old devil fought against. Watching the scene, Vergil muses over the way seemingly little incidents with the same basis have eroded his marriage. How could things have gone so wrong? Where does the answer lie? Dark implications, light lemon. OCs.


_**A/N: **__This story is a little different. A one-shot, and there is some implied gray area stuff (gray at best, mind), and a lemony scene somewhere in the middle, though not graphic._

_Let me know what you guys think. :)_

**Disclaimer:** _If Capcom didn't own these guys, then a lawsuit would be the _least_ of my concerns. A katana would be a lot more worrisome..._

* * *

**Sand in a Sieve**

She was chasing him around again. She finally caught him in her arms, tickling him despite his inhuman growls.

"Mama caught you, didn't she?" she asked the three-year-old.

He wriggled around, still growling, trying not to laugh as she continued tickling him.

"Let go, Mama!" he instructed, his small voice tinged with his devilish nature.

"Un-huh," she replied. "Not 'til you say the magic words."

"Daddy!" his nestling squealed.

He frowned for a moment. In a human sense, she was playing with him, teasing him with manners, merely having fun with her son. She didn't think anything about it, really, being human, raised human. In a demonic sense, however, she was asserting dominance, a dominance that even his spawn's underdeveloped devilish nature was thoroughly repulsed by. His mother or no, she was a weak, soft human woman, whereas he was a male devil; young, yes, but at this point in his life, his devil was far more instinctual than intellectual, and their spawn's growls were evidence that the game had gone too far for his devil's liking.

"Daddy won't help you," she teased. "Only one thing can save you."

She laughed, a rich, full, throaty sound that irritated his spawn but made him throb.

He debated internally. If he intervened on his spawn's behalf, he would be displaying his own dominance over his mate to his nestling. If he did nothing, he forced his spawn to obey its mother. Since she had made her bold declaration, (thinking nothing of that either, her own family had done this kind of game, he knew) if he did nothing, he would seem to be subservient to the woman's will. If he stopped her, he would undermine her authority.

She would also react badly. She would probably suspect the issue of dominance, and either be hurt that she and her words and games mattered so little, or she'd be angry about it. Maybe even to the breaking point this time. They had had many, many fights and arguments over dominance, and he still remembered that one awful night. Neither of them ever talked about it; deep down, he knew that was bad, that the whole thing was festered, and another incident, a flash of anger could open it up, prove that their marriage was gangrenous.

He frowned. If their relationship was so tenuous and fragile that a simple tickling game could shatter their peace, perhaps it should end, but he didn't want it to. He really did love her.

A simple solution to his spawn's problem came to mind.

"I am sorry, nestling. I cannot interfere unless you politely ask for my assistance."

"Daddy!" the little one wailed.

He shook his head.

"No. You know that all clients must pay for my service. You have been informed of the price."

"Daddy! Please!"

He grinned and strode towards his mate. Her eyes grew wide.

"You wouldn't dare," she hissed at him, thinking he was going to reach for one of her own ticklish places.

He didn't; he pulled her from his spawn and rather dramatically dipped her into a kiss, graphically exploring her mouth with his and groping her body. Her pregnant belly was pressed against him, arousing him more than he had anticipated. He pulled his mouth away, glancing at his spawn.

"Go to your room to play, nestling," he instructed.

"No, come on now, let me go. We can't just go off to our room right now," she chided.

"We're not," he said, clamping his lips to hers again, easing her body to the floor. He had her exposed enough for contact in moments and began physically seducing his mate. Despite her protests, she responded readily, greedily, and he pushed himself into her body. Her moans and squeals of delight were reassuring, and when they both finished, he was sure that he'd done the right thing until the loving look faded out of her eyes and she scowled at him.

"Get off," she said flatly.

He frowned, prepared to respond but she interrupted.

"Your wretched spawn is squeezing my bladder. Unless you want to explain to your son why you allowed your human mate to piss all over you, get off."

He obliged without a word, mentally cursing that a precious moment had been spoiled so easily.

Her whispered words from that night echoed in his brain: _I'll never forgive you...Never, especially if you got your way, got your wretched spawn you wanted..._

He had, and apparently, she hadn't. He'd left her alone for weeks afterwards, his human mind too wracked with guilt to allow his devil to become excited. He had felt disgusted, both for having done it and for feeling guilty. It had been the most confusing point of his entire life: never had he ever had such conflict in his nature. If this was how his brother felt, it was a wonder he hadn't gone insane years ago. Maybe that's why his brother drank.

He had sensed the spawn before she had known, just as he had with their son. He had considered killing it, the right amount of pressure in the right place would have aborted it and she would never have known. His devil had stopped him, clamoring over his precious nestling, then, surprisingly, his human had agreed. Kill his own spawn? Take yet another leap towards being a monster?

Instead, he'd told her. Her eyes had grown cold and hard, and she'd left. She packed clothes and walked out. He didn't stop her, and he didn't check on her, even when it had been over a day.

Their son, a little over two then, had been upset, a lost nestling without its mother, but he'd dealt with it, spending his time soothing and calming the confused little devil.

She came home of her own accord after a little more than a week. He knew she'd been at his brother's place. He also knew from her scent that she'd actually been with his brother, slept with him. Neither his human mind nor his devilish one liked that at all, but in the end, he'd said nothing.

He waited until she and their son were out on a day trip, not likely to go to either place before confronting his twin about it. He'd punched him, not bothering with his pet Arm. His brother had allowed the hit, but gave him a cold, calculating look.

"Two things: you will not hit me again, not without repercussion, and you're being foolish. Not only did you bring the whole thing on your own head, you don't even know what you're hitting me for, much less why I let you."

"You slept with my mate," he snapped.

"Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't have to, I could smell you all over her!" he hissed.

"Then you don't know what you hit me for," his twin replied matter-of-factly, closing his eyes.

He nearly rushed him, prepped to rip off anything that had touched his mate. _His _mate!

"If we fight over this," his twin had continued, "over her, she'll hate us both, and in the end, no matter what else, _I'll win and there won't be a damned thing you can do about it._"

If his twin had been smug, he would have attacked him, but the cool, controlled way he had spoken gave him pause. He turned without another word exchanged between the two and went home.

When she came back, he aggressively pulled her into his arms and kissed her. He pulled away from her mouth long enough to tell their son to go play in his room, then stripped the clothes off his passion-dazed mate and claimed her.

"You are mine," he told her between rough kisses after they had finished.

She jerked away from him, a nasty look curling her beautiful lips.

"I believe you made that abundantly clear nine weeks ago. If that is all you wanted, it certainly could have waited until I had put everything away, and given your son the bath he desperately needs after splashing his way through every puddle between here and New England."

He took her mouth again with his own, but her response was perfunctory, no longer passionate. If he persisted, she wasn't going to fight him, or argue or accuse him later, but his enjoyment would be in his actions alone. He released her.

Their relationship had very slowly recovered, but other things had cropped up.

As their son had gotten older, more independent, the issue of dominance had become a flashpoint. She wanted to play and interact with him like she had with every human child she'd ever known, but their son's devil simply didn't accept being subjugated by a human, his mother or not.

Perhaps he was to blame for that. She was hardly his equal and no doubt their son could sense that. He sighed. His parents surely hadn't had this many problems in their marriage, had they?

He didn't see his most revered father ever raping _his_ belovéd mate, or considering killing _his_ spawn, or having constant fights with _his_ wife. He and his brother had certainly never questioned their mother's dominance over them. They had adored their mother, holding her in the same awe as they had their father.

What had gone so horribly wrong with his own marriage?

Was his mate truly of inferior stuff than his mother had been?

Was she inferior to him? Surely not, or else how would he have ever fallen in love with her?

His mate's return from the bathroom jarred him from his dreary thoughts.

"Well, that's taken care of, I suppose I should save you the trouble and become prone again?"

Her words could have been challenging, insulting, at the very least sardonic, but they weren't: she was entirely, flatly serious. He had made it clear she was his property, and she behaved accordingly. She had even told him why once.

"I don't have any other options. It's not a matter of believing you're right, or mindlessly obeying, I'm being logical. Where can I go? I have no friends, no job, no money, no home. There is little point in going to your brother, even if I felt so inclined to dump my problems on him, and I certainly don't. They, like me, are not his responsibility. I have my son here, and this new spawn as well, and I don't want to deal with it on my own. I am obviously ill-equipped to raise one of these half-breeds considering how my older child treats me. I can't bring myself to kill it, or myself-" He had been shocked to know that those thoughts had crossed her mind. "-so here I stay. I at least know the price, and the majority of the rules. I'm sure you'll have no qualms in instructing me in the ones I don't know. Is that a good enough answer? Do you wish for a better one?"

It had been like living with an obedient android. He had reached back to the beginnings of their relationship, being delicate, gentle, romantic until she had shown some of her spunk and color again. But it took little to shatter her warmth, like today.

He shook off his thoughts, and tried smiling at her, caressing her cheek gently.

"Would you like to go to our room? I believe our nestling is well entertained," he asked softly, resisting the urge to lace kisses down her throat.

She shrugged indifferently.

"We have time before I need to make dinner. If that's what you want, then yes, that's what we'll do." She turned to make her waddling way up the stairs but he caught her arm, frowning.

"What do you want?" he asked her.

She quirked an eyebrow. "A, you don't want to know that, B, it hardly matters what I want, C, I'm not good at mind games, so you probably won't get any enjoyment out of this line of thought, D, you are bruising my arm. If that is your intention, I'd like to know now."

He released her. "It is not my intention to hurt you, I am not trying to play mind games, which you do have a talent for, it does matter to me what you want, and yes, my love, I want to know what you want."

She raised both eyebrows, then shrugged. "You've hurt me before, not even including this night," she jerked her finger at her swollen belly, "whatever you seem to think on the mind game thing, you hardly consult my thoughts on anything, so I'm not sure where you come up with the idea my opinion matters, but all right, you asked. What do I want? I want to be happy. I want to be in love. I want to be loved. I want love and respect from my significant other. I want love and respect from my children. I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror without cringing. I want to have something productive in my life. I want to be able to love and respect myself. I want to not be here, now, with you, like this. I want friends. I can't decide if I want a redo with you, or a blank slate. I can't decide if I want to choose your brother's offer over yours. Is that a good enough answer? Do you want a better one?"

He had known she wasn't happy, but some of those other things...He frowned.

"I love you," he said.

She cocked a hip, nodding.

"All right, I suppose you do. I can cross that off the list. Mostly because I can't quite describe why your love isn't the kind I was referring to."

"I am sorry I no longer please you. I believe there was a time I did. I believe you loved me then, since you do not seem to now. What was my brother's offer?"

"To take me upstairs and give me, how did he put it? Right, the night I always thought was too devilish to pray to God for. As opposed to what turned out to be our first date. I turned him down because I didn't think he wanted anything more, and I wanted to be in for the long haul. He, in turn, said, 'I don't know that you're ready for how long a haul that might be with my brother.' Perhaps he was right."

"Perhaps he was, but you've slept with him now. Do you wish you had then?"

She looked both scathing and confused. "What are you talking about? I haven't fucked your brother! Did he tell you that? Surely not."

"When I told you that you were spawning again you spent over a week with him. His stench was all over you!" he answered irritably.

She laughed scornfully. "Is that what you think? Foolish devil."

"You are mocking me," he growled.

Her face snapped closed, once again devoid of _her_.

"And I apologize," she said flatly. "Shall we go upstairs? I'm sure you can better redress me in our room."

"No!" he snapped. "Stop shutting down! Just answer me: if you did not sleep with my brother-"

"I _did_ sleep with him, Vergil, every night I was away from here! I curled up in his arms, in his bed, and cried myself to sleep while he lay there almost fully clothed, petting and comforting me. He rarely touched his bare skin to mine, despite my nearly constant nudity in his bed, he gave me one kiss on top of my head every night, he himself never slept, but we didn't fuck. I thought about it, it was truthfully one of the reasons I went to him instead of seeking a third party, but I couldn't get you out of my head long enough to see Dante, instead of you in the wrong clothes. I couldn't bring myself to cheat on you! I couldn't even pleasure myself in his presence, or even in his bedroom! Are you satisfied with that answer? You still retain exclusive claim to your property."

And suddenly, there it was, he knew where they had gone wrong, what had misfired in what had seemed so promising a love. She wasn't his equal, she was inferior to him, she always had been, and he was the reason why.

She had been a pet. Of course he loved her, who doesn't love a cherished pet? But it wasn't an equal love, the love she had been referring to. He was trapped, they both were. They could barely live together, yet he couldn't let her go. She had spoken truly when she said she had nowhere to go, and she had integrity, honor enough not to run out on her family, despite how her family might feel.

Had she always been just a pet? Had he never loved her as he should have loved his mate? He didn't know, couldn't tell, and now it seemed far too late.

She waited at the foot of the stair. He hardly knew whether to tell her to go up or dismiss her. Either way seemed wrong.

His mind waffled between option a and option b. Waffled? He felt disgust at himself again, a feeling that was becoming so familiar as to go unnoticed. _He was Vergil, son of Sparda._ He didn't waffle; he was cool, collected, logical, decisive. He looked again at his mate, somehow still wondering what to do.


End file.
